prostrate　in　spirit　at　her　adored　feet！
  And　now　it　was　done！　　Fatality　had　willed　it！　　With　the　eyes　of　a
  mortal　struck　by　the　maddening　thunderbolt　of　the　gods；　Renouard
  looked　up　to　the　sky；　an　immense　black　pall　dusted　over　with　gold；
  on　which　great　shudders　seemed　to　pass　from　the　breath　of　life
  affirming　its　sway。
  CHAPTER　VIII
  At　last；　one　morning；　in　a　clear　spot　of　a　glassy　horizon　charged
  with　heraldic　masses　of　black　vapours；　the　island　grew　out　from　the
  sea；　showing　here　and　there　its　naked　members　of　basaltic　rock
  through　the　rents　of　heavy　foliage。　　Later；　in　the　great　spilling
  of　all　the　riches　of　sunset；　Malata　stood　out　green　and　rosy　before
  turning　into　a　violet　shadow　in　the　autumnal　light　of　the　expiring
  day。　　Then　came　the　night。　　In　the　faint　airs　the　schooner　crept　on
  past　a　sturdy　squat　headland；　and　it　was　pitch　dark　when　her
  headsails　ran　down；　she　turned　short　on　her　heel；　and　her　anchor
  bit　into　the　sandy　bottom　on　the　edge　of　the　outer　reef；　for　it　was
  too　dangerous　then　to　attempt　entering　the　little　bay　full　of
  shoals。　　After　the　last　solemn　flutter　of　the　mainsail　the
  murmuring　voices　of　the　Moorsom　party　lingered；　very　frail；　in　the
  black　stillness。
  They　were　sitting　aft；　on　chairs；　and　nobody　made　a　move。　　Early　in
  the　day；　when　it　had　become　evident　that　the　wind　was　failing；
  Renouard；　basing　his　advice　on　the　shortcomings　of　his　bachelor
  establishment；　had　urged　on　the　ladies　the　advisability　of　not
  going　ashore　in　the　middle　of　the　night。　　Now　he　approached　them　in
  a　constrained　manner　（it　was　astonishing　the　constraint　that　had
  reigned　between　him　and　his　guests　all　through　the　passage）　and
  renewed　his　arguments。　　No　one　ashore　would　dream　of　his　bringing
  any　visitors　with　him。　　Nobody　would　even　think　of　coming　off。
  There　was　only　one　old　canoe　on　the　plantation。　　And　landing　in　the
  schooner's　boats　would　be　awkward　in　the　dark。　　There　was　the　risk
  of　getting　aground　on　some　shallow　patches。　　It　would　be　best　to
  spend　the　rest　of　the　night　on　board。
  There　was　really　no　opposition。　　The　professor　smoking　a　pipe；　and
  very　comfortable　in　an　ulster　buttoned　over　his　tropical　clothes；
  was　the　first　to　speak　from　his　long　chair。
  〃Most　excellent　advice。〃
  Next　to　him　Miss　Moorsom　assented　by　a　long　silence。　　Then　in　a
  voice　as　of　one　coming　out　of　a　dream　…
  〃And　so　this　is　Malata；〃　she　said。　　〃I　have　often　wondered　。　。　。〃
  A　shiver　passed　through　Renouard。　　She　had　wondered！　　What　about？
  Malata　was　himself。　　He　and　Malata　were　one。　　And　she　had　wondered！
  She　had　。　。　。
  The　professor's　sister　leaned　over　towards　Renouard。　　Through　all
  these　days　at　sea　the　man's　…　the　found　man's　…　existence　had　not
  been　alluded　to　on　board　the　schooner。　　That　reticence　was　part　of
  the　general　constraint　lying　upon　them　all。　　She；　herself；
  certainly　had　not　been　exactly　elated　by　this　finding　…　poor
  Arthur；　without　money；　without　prospects。　　But　she　felt　moved　by
  the　sentiment　and　romance　of　the　situation。
  〃Isn't　it　wonderful；〃　she　whispered　out　of　her　white　wrap；　〃to
  think　of　poor　Arthur　sleeping　there；　so　near　to　our　dear　lovely
  Felicia；　and　not　knowing　the　immense　joy　in　store　for　him　to…
  morrow。〃
  There　was　such　artificiality　in　the　wax…flower　lady　that　nothing　in
  this　speech　touched　Renouard。　　It　was　but　the　simple　anxiety　of　his
  heart　that　he　was　voicing　when　he　muttered　gloomily　…
  〃No　one　in　the　world　knows　what　to…morrow　may　hold　in　store。〃
  The　mature　lady　had　a　recoil　as　though　he　had　said　something
  impolite。　　What　a　harsh　thing　to　say　…　instead　of　finding　something
  nice　and　appropriate。　　On　board；　where　she　never　saw　him　in　evening
  clothes；　Renouard's　resemblance　to　a　duke's　son　was　not　so　apparent
  to　her。　　Nothing　but　his　…　ah　…　bohemianism　remained。　　She　rose
  with　a　sort　of　ostentation。
  〃It's　late　…　and　since　we　are　going　to　sleep　on　board　to…night　。　。
  。〃　she　said。　　〃But　it　does　seem　so　cruel。〃
  The　professor　started　up　eagerly；　knocking　the　ashes　out　of　his
  pipe。　　〃Infinitely　more　sensible；　my　dear　Emma。〃
  Renouard　waited　behind　Miss　Moorsom's　chair。
  She　got　up　slowly；　moved　one　step　forward；　and　paused　looking　at
  the　shore。　　The　blackness　of　the　island　blotted　out　the　stars　with
  its　vague　mass　like　a　low　thundercloud　brooding　over　the　waters　and
  ready　to　burst　into　flame　and　crashes。
  〃And　so　…　this　is　Malata；〃　she　repeated　dreamily；　moving　towards
  the　cabin　door。　　The　clear　cloak　hanging　from　her　shoulders；　the
  ivory　face　…　for　the　night　had　put　out　nothing　of　her　but　the
  gleams　of　her　hair　…　made　her　resemble　a　shining　dream…woman
  uttering　words　of　wistful　inquiry。　　She　disappeared　without　a　sign；
  leaving　Renouard　penetrated　to　the　very　marrow　by　the　sounds　that
  came　from　her　body　like　a　mysterious　resonance　of　an　exquisite
  instrument。
  He　stood　stock　still。　　What　was　this　accidental　touch　which　had
  evoked　the　strange　accent　of　her　voice？　　He　dared　not　answer　that
  question。　　But　he　had　to　answer　the　question　of　what　was　to　be　done
  now。　　Had　the　moment　of　confession　come？　　The　thought　was　enough　to
  make　one's　blood　run　cold。
  It　was　as　if　those　people　had　a　premonition　of　something。　　In　the
  taciturn　days　of　the　passage　he　had　noticed　their　reserve　even
  amongst　themselves。　　The　professor　smoked　his　pipe　moodily　in
  retired　spots。　　Renouard　had　caught　Miss　Moorsom's　eyes　resting　on
  himself　more　than　once；　with　a　peculiar　and　grave　expression。　　He
  fancied　that　she　avoided　all　opportunities　of　conversation。　　The
  maiden　lady　seemed　to　nurse　a　grievance。　　And　now　what　had　he　to
  do？
  The　lights　on　the　deck　had　gone　out　one　after　the　other。　　The
  schooner　slept。
  About　an　hour　after　Miss　Moorsom　had　gone　below　without　a　sign　or　a
  word　for　him；　Renouard　got　out　of　his　hammock　slung　in　the　waist
  under　the　midship　awning　…　for　he　had　given　up　all　the
  accommodation　below　to　his　guests。　　He　got　out　with　a　sudden　swift
  movement；　flung　off　his　sleeping　jacket；　rolled　his　pyjamas　up　his
  thighs；　and　stole　forward；　unseen　by　the　one　Kanaka　of　the　anchor…
  watch。　　His　white　torso；　naked　like　a　stripped　athlete's；
  glimmered；　ghostly；　in　the　deep　shadows　of　the　deck。　　Unnoticed　he
  got　out　of　the　ship　over　the　knight…heads；　ran　along　the　back　rope；
  and　seizing　the　dolphin…striker　firmly　with　both　hands；　lowered
  himself　into　the　sea　without　a　splash。
  He　swam　away；　noiseless　like　a　fish；　and　then　struck　boldly　for　the
  land；　sustained；　embraced；　by　the　tepid　water。　　The　gentle；
  voluptuous　heave　of　its　breast　swung　him　up　and　down　slightly；
  sometimes　a　wavelet　murmured　in　his　ears；　from　time　to　time；
  lowering　his　feet；　he　felt　for　the　bottom　on　a　shallow　patch　to
  rest　and　correct　his　direction。　　He　landed　at　the　lower　end　of　the
  bungalow　garden；　into　the　dead　stillness　of　the　island。　　There　were
  no　lights。　　The　plantation　seemed　to　sleep；　as　profoundly　as　the
  schooner。　　On　the　path　a　small　shell　cracked　under　his　naked　heel。
  The　faithful　half…caste　foreman　going　his　rounds　cocked　his　ears　at
  the　sharp　sound。　　He　gave　one　enormous　start　of　fear　at　the　sight
  of　the　swift　white　figure　flying　at　him　out　of　the　night。　　He
  crouched　in　terror；　and　then　sprang　up　and　clicked　his　tongue　in
  amazed　recognition。
  〃Tse！　　Tse！　　The　master！〃
  〃Be　quiet；　Luiz；　and　listen　to　what　I　say。〃
  Yes；　it　was　the　master；　the　strong　master　who　was　never　known　to
  raise　his　voice；　the　man　blindly　obeyed　and　never　questioned。　　He
  talked　low　and　rapidly　in　the　quiet　night；　as　if　every　minute　were
  precious。　　On　learning　that　three　guests　were　coming　to　stay　Luiz
  clicked　his　tongue　rapidly。　　These　clicks　were　the　uniform；
  stenographic　symbols　of　his　emotions；　and　he　could　give　them　an
  infinite　variety　of　meaning。　　He　listened　to　the　rest　in　a　deep
  silence　hardly　affected　by　the　low；　〃Yes；　master；〃　whenever
  Renouard　paused。
  〃You　understand？〃　the　latter　insisted。　　〃No　preparations　are　to　be
  made　till　we　land　in　the　morning。　　And　you　are　to　say　that　Mr。
  Walter　has　gone　off　in　a　trading　schooner　on　a　round　of　the
  islands。〃
  〃Yes；　master。〃
  〃No　mistakes　…　mind！〃
  〃No；　master。〃
  Renouard　walked　back　towards　the　sea。　　Luiz；　following　him；
  proposed　to　call　out　half　a　dozen　boys　and　man　the　canoe。
  〃Imbecile！〃
  〃Tse！　　Tse！　　Tse！〃
  〃Don't　you　understand　that　you　haven't　seen　me？〃
  〃Yes；　master。　　But　what　a　long　swim。　　Suppose　you　drown。〃
  〃Then　you　can　say　of　me　and　of　Mr。　Walter　what　you　like。　　The　dead
  don't　mind。〃
  Renoua